Who Is the Ant?

"Lord Head Bishop, allow me to escort you back." Wolflen was very pleased that his grandson had addressed him by this title on such an occasion. Back when his grandson worked in the Church Affairs Building, he often blurred and confused how he addressed Wolflen. Although Wolflen had reminded him many times, the young man had always thought his grandfather was joking and never took it to heart. Wolflen had once told Karen that his grandson was decent in every other respect, but his greatest flaw was having grown up in an environment far too comfortable and privileged, leaving his character a bit soft. His starting point was undeniably much higher than that of ordinary believers his age, but when measured against true geniuses who had fought their way up from common origins, he fell embarrassingly short. Now, however, it was obvious that his grandson had matured all at once—though the price of that maturity had been far too steep and heavy. "I'm not going back." "Not going back? Are you returning to the Church Affairs Building, then? I really think you should take care of your health." "Is there still any point in taking care of this body of mine?" Leon was about to protest, but Wolflen cut him off. "Fine, take care, take care. I'm feeling a bit hungry. Let's eat here before leaving. After all, one must take care of one's body." "All right, I'll prepare something for you. One of the rooms on the third floor is a kitchen set up by our Director. I'll cook for you myself." "No, no. While I know I don't have long to live, I'm not in such a rush that I need to run to my grave. It's just the two of us left in our family now, grandfather and grandson. If you cooked a meal and sent your own flesh-and-blood grandfather straight to the afterlife, think of the mental burden you'd have to carry." "Heh... pfft!" Leon tried to hold back his laughter—the subject was truly grim, yet looking at the expression on his grandfather's face, he couldn't help himself. Wolflen smiled as well and lifted his hand. Leon stepped forward to support him. "Remember, being able to laugh is a blessing. When it's time to grieve, we grieve, but when we can laugh, don't bottle it up. Smile as much as you can. Your mother and your grandmother love looking down from heaven to see you smile. You can't keep wearing a bitter face forever, or when I go meet your grandmother, she'll blame me for not looking after you properly. As for your mother, she wouldn't dare lose her temper with me." "Yes, Grandfather." "Let's go eat in your cafeteria. Let me taste what you usually eat." "All right, I'll take you there." Supporting Wolflen, Leon led him down to the headquarters cafeteria. There were quite a few people there at the moment, but when the Head Bishop walked in, everyone hastily stood to salute, their demeanor turning exceedingly stiff. Wolflen merely smiled and nodded in return. After all, he hadn't come specifically to inspect the meal standards of the Order priests. Besides, the Whip of Order's benefits were steadily decoupling from the Regional Administrative Office these days. "Grandfather, would you prefer to sit out here or go to a private room?" "A private room. It'll be easier to talk." "All right, Grandfather." Leon showed Wolflen into a private room and seated him, then went out to fetch their food. Before long, he returned carrying two trays. Wolflen picked up his utensils and began eating, occasionally moving meatballs, fish fillets, and the like from his own plate onto his grandson's. Leon didn't decline, eating them all with a smile. Wolflen's appetite was poor, or rather, his body simply couldn't take much food anymore. After eating a little, he set down his cutlery and sat quietly, watching his grandson finish. In truth, the atmosphere in their household had always been wonderful, and their family had gotten along harmoniously. Even so, Wolflen still felt regret—regret that back when he had enjoyed the warmth and sweetness of family, he hadn't used a piece of bread to wipe up every drop of soup at the bottom of the bowl and pop it into his mouth for one final, savoring chew. People were simply like that: only when everything was about to be lost forever did they truly learn to cherish what they had. Once Leon finished, he carried the trays out and returned with two fruit platters, toothpicks sticking out of the fruit. He remembered his grandfather saying it would be easier to talk here. Wolflen picked up a grape, turning it lightly between his fingers. Leon asked, "Grandfather, is today's incident going to cause huge fallout?" "Originally, it wouldn't have been a big problem. At most, your Director would shoulder both the limelight and the blame, and the matter would settle down. But now, this extra scene tacked on has made things far more complicated—and far more serious." "Will it reignite the conflict between the Whip of Order and the Regional Administrative Office?" Wolflen shook his head. "It goes beyond that. Once the veneer is ripped away, the nature of the issue changes. In terms of status, power, and personal prestige, our current High Priest far surpasses the last one. But the more dominant he is, the louder the suppressed voices of opposition naturally become. This was supposed to be a relatively calm period following the end of the last major confrontation. Dropping a pebble into the pond right now will easily startle every fish in the water." "Is it really that serious...?" "That's actually a conservative estimate. When your department brought down the Norton family recently, it was merely friction over redistributing power between the Whip of Order and the Regional Administrative Office. This time, it will likely be interpreted as a new declaration of war between the High Priest's Reformist faction behind the Whip of Order and the Traditionalists. So don't be fooled by how calm your Minister and Regional Chief looked when the meeting adjourned. It was all an act. Inside, they're in absolute panic. Most likely, while we were eating, they were in their offices reporting to their superiors and asking for instructions—no, that's not quite accurate. They were begging for forgiveness. Because through their carelessness, they blew this completely out of proportion." "Then what about our Director...?" "Which Director? Oh, Karen was originally going to be used as a rag to wipe up the mess. Though even now, I still can't fathom why they chose him as the sacrificial pawn for this operation. It's like repairing a pothole in the road with a gemstone instead of a brick. It accomplishes the same thing, but the cost and consequence... don't match at all. As for now, Karen doesn't need to worry about himself. That Second Director drew the entire storm onto his own shoulders. A thuggish move, but remarkably effective. Karen used to be in Neo's squad, didn't he? I remember during the conference on Dark Moon Island, that squad was assigned to protect me." "Yes, Grandfather." "Then the camaraderie in that squad really is extraordinary. For an old captain to be willing to throw away everything and step forward to shield his subordinate... I believe Neo must think Karen is worth doing that for. And I believe even more that in the future, Karen will do the same for you." "For me...?" "He will." Wolflen peeled the grape skin and popped the fruit into his mouth. "Grandfather, don't eat those grapes. I tasted one earlier—they're very sour." Wolflen chuckled and shook his head. "At my age, ordinary flavors barely register on my tongue." "Grandfather, should I take you back to rest now?" "No rush. We're waiting for someone." "Waiting for who?" Wolflen glanced at the wall clock in the private room. "Looks like the pleading for forgiveness is proving quite harsh. Heh." Hearing that, Leon could only sit quietly beside him and wait. "Don't you have things to do?" Wolflen asked curiously. "Shouldn't this be your busiest time? After all, with so many bishops arrested all at once, just listening to their grievances would be an unbearable headache." "My assignment is to stay by your side and flatter you." Wolflen immediately wore an expression caught between tears and laughter. "Flatter me? And then what?" "There's no specific objective. Just flatter you. If you plan on going home, I'll go home with you to rest. The department is very busy, but my leave was approved." "I doubt Karen or Neo gave you that order, did they?" "No." "Mm. Then the quality of your squad really is exceptional. No, more than exceptional—to have someone who can see through the situation so clearly. I'm certain most people right now are completely bewildered. That's why assigning you to this squad was a very wise decision on my part, Leon. Just do your work honestly in this squad, and don't entertain any other ideas." "I will, Grandfather." "No, remember what I'm telling you. Do you know what happens when a small group contains more than one truly brilliant person?" "What happens?" "What happens is that even the dumbest and most useless member of the group, so long as he behaves honestly and does his part, will be carried along and end up doing quite well for himself." Leon: "..." Right then, a knock sounded at the door. Leon stood up to open it, only to find Regional Chief Harry standing outside. He immediately saluted. Harry gave Leon a smile, then walked in carrying a bag of tea leaves and a kettle of boiling water. "My people told me you were dining here with your grandson, so of course I had to offer some hospitality. The cafeteria food is rather plain. These are tea leaves from my personal collection—quite strong in flavor. I think you'll like them." Leon stepped forward to help brew the tea, but he saw Regional Chief Harry already preparing it himself. Wolflen leaned back in his chair, his hands resting over his stomach, watching Harry make the tea with a leisurely, indolent posture. "To have the Regional Chief brew tea for me in person..." "Look what you're saying. It's only right. As if I couldn't brew..." "It seems you must have received quite a dressing-down." Harry: "..." Wolflen lowered his eyelids slightly and continued, "A scolding so far beyond your expectations that it completely threw you into panic, to the point where you can't even maintain your dignity." Wolflen coughed twice, but the faint smile at the corners of his mouth was barely concealed anymore. "Or perhaps your position and status have run into serious trouble?" Harry froze for an instant, though he managed not to let the boiling water spill over the rim of the teacup. After steeping the tea, he sat down, let out a sigh, and said, "You saw it yourself. Didn't an accident happen, blowing things out of proportion? It was handled poorly, without finesse. Deserving a scolding is only natural." Wolflen shook his head. "They're terrified too, aren't they?" Harry's expression faltered slightly. He immediately lifted the scalding teacup to pretend to take a sip and asked, "Who are you referring to?" "Them." Wolflen raised a hand and pointed upward. "I don't quite understand your meaning." "Oh, all right. Then moving forward, I probably won't understand your meaning either. Leon, come, take your grandfather home." "Yes, Grandfather." The old man had served as Head Bishop for so many years that even Dolph—the most arrogant and abrasive bishop back then—had never dared disrespect him. He had achieved that not through family pedigree; after all, it was precisely due to his lack of pedigree and failure to establish a suitable circle among the upper echelons that his ascent had stalled at Head Bishop. One could only say he had lacked that stroke of fortune. Yet the old man possessed true wisdom. In certain matters, he could see through everything. Being held in check like this made Regional Chief Harry deeply uncomfortable. But seeing Wolflen about to leave, he promptly leaned forward and said, "You must help us." "I don't understand what you mean." "This was what we agreed upon." "My only agreement with you was to clean out some parasites. Aren't they being handled right now? I never agreed to anything else." Regional Chief Harry bit his lip. "The situation is grave. I need to resolve this as quickly as possible, or this spark could ignite internal strife within the church." "Sigh, I'm someone on the verge of entering the First Knight Order. How could I possibly manage such things?" "You can manage it! You have the capability!" Harry stared at Wolflen. "You stayed here precisely because you don't want to see the church plunge into internal turmoil over today's mishap, don't you?" "Ah..." Wolflen tapped his forehead lightly with a hand. "You've actually reminded me. The reason I stayed for dinner was simply to wait for you to come find me. Quite a hassle, really." Hearing this, Harry let out a long breath of relief. "You see, you arrived a bit late, and my memory isn't what it used to be. I almost forgot my purpose in waiting here for you." "Please rest assured. As long as you agree to step forward and announce to the church that this matter was..." Wolflen raised a hand, cutting off Harry's words, and said: "I stayed here specifically waiting for you to see me just so that when you begged me, I could say one word to your face: "Scram!" *** *Sizzle... sizzle...* As hot oil splashed down, a mouthwatering aroma burst forth. Karen picked up his chopsticks and began mixing. At that moment, Minister Bernie's figure appeared in the doorway of the "kitchen," offering an involuntary sigh of appreciation: "Smells wonderful." Karen turned his head toward Bernie. Only two hours had passed, yet Bernie had shifted from his previously reserved, composed demeanor to acting somewhat like Richard. "Pity. I only made two bowls." "Next time there's a chance, you must invite me to taste some." Karen shook his head. "Hand-pulled noodles are too troublesome. I rarely make them." "Karen, I'd like to have a proper chat with you." "My Lord, the noodles will get soggy." "It won't take long," Bernie said. "In this matter, my hands were tied. Someone above wanted to ruin you, and I was merely carrying out orders from above. Otherwise, I would never have put you on the roasting spit like that. I couldn't bear to—not with a subordinate as outstanding as you." "I understand your difficulties, My Lord." "But the matter blew up, and the people above changed their minds. They want everything calmed down first. I believe that after this, those above will abandon any intention of targeting you." "That truly is welcome news." "Mm. I can promise you that even in the one-in-a-million chance there's a next time, I won't follow their wishes again. I will notify you and protect you." "As your subordinate, I appreciate the protection you offer as my superior." Bernie shrugged. "I know you're still harboring resentment." "No, no, no, Minister, you misunderstand. I'm truly not angry with you. Those aren't just polite words, honestly. After all, the one who should be angrier is Neo. I was only recently appointed Director, and there was a layer between us before, whereas Neo had far more contact with you. There's really no need for me to be angry with you." "Oh, right, Neo. The mistake he made this time is grave. What he did could very well burn down our entire headquarters from top to bottom." "You should know his old nickname was the Hound." Karen tapped his temple with a finger. "He's a bit unwell up here." "But what's done is done, isn't it?" Bernie said helplessly. "The list only contained Bishop Yedel's name. The other five bishops were essentially wrongful arrests. The gravity of this cannot be overstated, so his culpability is severe." Karen nodded. "Indeed. He acted far too recklessly. He deserves to be punished harshly." Bernie licked his lips and said, "He did it to protect you, Karen." "What a fool. Who needed him to protect me?" Karen shook his head. "Now he's acting as if I owe him an immense favor, even having the nerve to demand that I make noodles just for him." "There's one thing—so long as you're willing to do it and cooperate, Neo can walk out safely." Karen picked up two cloves of garlic, took hold of the bowls, and prepared to leave the kitchen. Bernie continued, "Not only will Neo be fine, but you'll also receive a promotion. Look, you haven't been in the Director's seat for very long, have you? And then..." "One day. Strictly speaking, one afternoon. Noon was my commendation ceremony—a truly eye-opening commendation ceremony." "I'm sorry." "No, no need to apologize. I understand. As you said, your hands were tied." "Yes, sigh. But this time, as long as you're willing to cooperate, you'll be promoted directly to Deputy Minister afterward, putting you on equal footing with regional bishops. At the next conference, you'll be seated in the second row." "And yet, standing on the podium today didn't feel particularly comfortable to me." Karen stepped around Bernie, heading outward. Bernie's eyes narrowed slightly, his tone shifting. "This is also the will of the prominent figure behind me. It's an exchange of terms. If you refuse, you should know very well how effortless it would be for the true upper echelon of the church to crush you." Karen halted his steps. Bernie's expression softened at once, and his tone grew mild. "So agree to it, Karen. You've been given a marvelous opportunity this time, one that others could wait an entire lifetime for and never receive." "Whatever." "Hm? What did you say?" "I said, whatever." "Whatever?" "Yes. If the high-ranking figure behind you wants to ruin me, all I can say is: suit yourself." "Karen, do you realize what you're saying?" "All I know is that if I don't deliver these noodles soon, they really will turn to mush, and that brain-damaged Hound will shamelessly take advantage of being in a cell to demand that I remake them." "Karen, I don't want you acting on emotion. It comes off as ignorant and childish. I know you may have met some prominent figures, but they only appeared gentle because they didn't care about you. In reality, crushing you—or crushing me—is sometimes as simple to them as crushing an ant. Seizing tangible benefits within your grasp is the wisest choice, isn't it?" "Lord Minister, haven't you read it? In the doctrinal narratives of the *Light of Order*, there is a passage: 'True disciples of Order dare to face a grim life head-on, dare to gaze into dripping blood.'" "You..." Carrying the two bowls of noodles in his hands, Karen turned around at the doorway and looked directly at Bernie for the first time since the man had walked in. Bernie saw that the young man's gaze was utterly tranquil, with a faint trace of a dismissive smile hanging at the corners of his lips—as if mocking him. "Heh, heheh..." Well, no need for "as if"—he truly was mocking him. Karen took a deep breath and drew back his smile. If both his hands hadn't been occupied with noodle bowls, he would have loved to wipe away the tears of laughter pooling in his eyes. "My apologies, Lord Minister. I tried to hold it in, but I really couldn't." Pausing, Karen continued: "If that prominent figure behind you truly wishes to crush me, then... tell him to be my guest." There was another half of the sentence that Karen didn't voice aloud, letting it surge silently within his heart: *If he truly dares to make a brazen move against me,* *he will quickly realize* *who...* *is the real ant!*